


Brothers Don't Lie

by socixlxcasualty



Category: IT (2017), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, Kinda, Oh wait, One Shot, Short One Shot, fluff at the end, ill try harder next time i swear, it was meant to be sadder than this, its an imagine, maybe? - Freeform, mike and richie as twins, see what i did there instead of friends dont lie, sorry it sux, sorry none of these are proper tags lol so no one will ever find this fic oops, tbh i dont actually know what im doing, there will be a next time, wow what a concept
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 20:30:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13419051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socixlxcasualty/pseuds/socixlxcasualty
Summary: brothers Mike and Richie know each other better than they know themselves. but Richie's an ass so its always up to Mike to find out what the problem is.





	Brothers Don't Lie

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry and also quite annoyed because I don't think I quite captured the essence of Richie in this, but I did enjoy writing it so I guess there's that. sorry if you were expecting true Richie, I haven't got there yet. but I will one day.

I don’t know how many damn times I told him to stop smoking. 

 

To the point that I make the effort to check on him each night, make sure he is inside, and his window is locked. Make sure that his fingers aren’t twitching, make sure his eyes don’t dart to the window in anticipation for me leaving. Make sure the little metal tin is nowhere to be seen. 

 

But from the look on Richie’s face when he stormed through the door is worrying me. He got home an hour ago, went straight to his room. I haven’t seen or heard from him since, there hasn’t even been any AC/DC thumping through the ceiling. But he pissed mom off earlier because he shouted at Holly, so she doesn’t care if she ever sees him again. And Dad has been snoring on the couch for three hours already, so he’s really no help at all. Which leaves me, and knowing Richie he’ll likely just push me out the window if I try to talk to him. He’ll shout at me throw stuff at me and I hate my brother so much because he just doesn’t care about anyone but himself so why should I care since I don’t think he cares about me. 

 

So, anyway, here I am, fist raised outside his door. A thin beam of light shines gently out from under it. I knock once, twice. Nothing. I reach for the door knob and turn it slowly. The door opens quietly, but I’m more worried about the fact that Richie hasn’t slammed it shut in my face again, or shouted at me. I poke my head around the frame and scan his room. My brow creases; it’s empty. But I see movement: the curtains blow lightly in the breeze through the open window. My eyes flash to the bedside table, where I see neither the cigarette box or the small metal tin that usually comes with it.

I dart to the window and hoist myself up, my head and torso hanging out over the slanted roof. I look first right, then left. In the dark, barely illuminated by the street lamp at the end of the driveway, I can see Richie. He sits near the edge of the roof, and though I can only see the outline of his body I can see the smoke pouring from his lips. I sigh, shake my head. I climb out of the window and make my way over to him, slipping and sliding on the tiles. Richie doesn’t appear to acknowledge me, but when I look down to keep my balance and look back up, he’s staring at me disdainfully. I stop for a moment, locking eyes with him. He purposefully lifts the cigarette to his lips and takes a long drag. He turns his face away from me as he exhales. I sigh and sit myself next to him; involuntarily, I find myself mirroring his posture: knees drawn up to my chest, arms wrapped around them, save for Richie having one arm free to hold his cigarette up to his face. His fingers twitch; ashes settle on the tiles between us. I stay silent; if Richie didn’t want me here, he’d have said so by now. But equally, this doesn’t mean that he is prepared to talk to me. You have to wait for him to decide if he’s talking or not. But Richie is happy to have me sitting with him and I’m ok with that for now. 

 

There’s a sharp intake of breath. A cough. I look sideways at Richie, but still say nothing. He laughs, despite still coughing, under his breath. “Go on, Michael. Say it.” 

 

I roll my eyes. “Stop smoking. And don’t call me Michael, Richard.” 

 

“Stop calling me Richard and maybe I’ll think about not calling you Michael.” 

 

“You called me Michael first!” I protest. In the darkness I can’t see him rolling his eyes, but I know he’s doing it all the same. I swallow. “Put it out, Richie.” 

 

He huffs dramatically and makes a show of rubbing the butt of the cigarette in the gap between the tiles before throwing it away from him. “There. Happy now?” 

 

“No. What’s going on with you today? I thought Bill and Eddie were visiting, why aren’t you still with them?” I demand. Richie throws me a filthy look. 

 

“Just because we went through that shit together doesn’t mean I have to spend all my time with them when they visit,” he says nastily. My brows crease. 

 

“Uhh, yeah it does?” I reply. “They didn’t come to visit Hawkins, they came to visit you. So why are you here, smoking even though I’ve told you a thousand times not to, instead of hanging out with them?” 

 

Richie sighs. Crosses both arms across his legs; our postures are now identical. Through the darkness I can just see his glasses slipping down his nose, but he makes no move to push them up again. 

 

“Look, if I tell you this you can’t tell anyone, ok? Not Mom, not Nancy, not Will.” 

 

I snort. “Why do you say, ‘not Will’ like that? He’s just my friend, he’s not like Mom or Nancy.” If I squint, I can see the dubious look Richie gives me, but he carries on like I haven’t said anything.

 

“Look, it wasn’t Bill and Eddie that came to visit. Just Eddie. He’s staying with some cousin of his just out of town.” He roughly wipes his nose, and I notice almost immediately that his breathing is picking up. “Eds and I talk a lot more, you see, than any of the others. We send letters, talk on the phone every now and again. It’s… weird. How you feel about Eleven…” I shift uncomfortably but stay silent, let him continue. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m feeling but when you talked about El that year she was gone, I miss Eddie too. I miss Eddie the same way you missed Eleven. And I think he did too.” 

 

I suddenly understand what he means. He may be using me and Eleven as an example, but I know what he’s talking about. Because I feel that way about someone too. 

 

“And today we were just walking through the woods, I was telling him about Steve because I think he’d like him, and we think that El and Bev will be best friends when they meet. And he’s saying how the rest of the group missed me too and can’t wait to meet you, and then out of nowhere he just stops me and he…” Richie trails off, looking away. I gulp. 

 

“Rich? What happened?” I ask this despite knowing what he’s going to say. 

 

“He kissed me, ok?” he says scornfully. 

 

“Ok, and what’s the matter with that?” I ask. “If you feel that way about him too, there’s nothing wrong with it. I’m telling you, Mom and Dad and Nancy won’t care, you’ll still just be Richie, Richie.” 

 

He glares at me. “What are you talking about, ‘feel that way’? I don’t feel any way about him, Mike, I just missed him!” he snaps. I shake my head, start laughing. 

 

“Don’t lie to yourself, Rich –” He cuts me off. 

 

“Lie?” He scoffs. “What, like you’ve been lying to yourself, to Mom, Nancy, your friends, to me?” I narrow my eyes. 

 

“What are you talking about?” 

 

Now it’s Richie who’s laughing. “Come on, Mike. Stop kidding yourself. We all know about Will.” 

 

I flinch. I don’t know what you’re talking about, I, I, you said El –” 

 

He waves a hand. “Yeah, I don’t know why I mentioned Eleven because its actually when you talk about Will that I realise I think of Eds the same way.” He looks away, voice quiet. I sigh. 

 

“Ok, I’m prepared to make a deal.” 

 

“I’m not playing D and D with you,” he warns. I chuckle. 

 

“No, that’s not what I meant.” 

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

“If I tell you that you’re right about Will, will you admit that I’m right about Eddie?” 

 

Richie sighs heavily. “Yes.” 

 

“And I think maybe we learnt that keeping shit like this from each other is a bad idea because we’ll just find out anyway, apparently.” I attempt a smile, lean over and nudge his shoulder. I might be mistaken, but I think he’s smiling. I unwrap my arms from around my legs as he does, and we hug awkwardly. 

 

“Mike,” he says quietly into my shoulder. I incline my head to show my attention. “What am I gonna do? I pushed Eddie away, I shouted at him and left him in the woods. So what if I go to him and say I’m sorry, he’s an ass. He won’t forgive me easily for it. No way.” 

 

I sigh, pull away from him. I get to my feet, wobbly on the slanted roof. I hold a hand out to my brother. Richie takes it and I haul him to his feet. 

 

“You’ll work it out, you always do.” As Richie finally makes it to a standing position, he pulls me into another hug. 

 

“Thanks, Mike,” he mumbles. I smile. 

 

“Thanks, Richard.” He shoves me away and I stumble, arms wind-milling as I struggle to regain my balance. But Richie already has my hand and drags me back to his window, laughing. I glare at the back of his head. 

 

“You could’ve killed me, Richie!” I yell. He spins back to face me before climbing back through his window. He raises a hand, fist clenched save for his index finger. He waves it at me. 

 

“Ahh, but I didn’t now, did I, dear fellow?” I groan at his dumb British accent, “You made it out alive, that’s all that matters!” He ushers me ahead of him and claps me on the back as I climb back into his room. I wait until he’s in, too, before darting a hand into the pocket of his coat. Before he can register what I’ve done, I launch the packet of cigarettes as far out the window as I can. Then I slam it shut and run to the door while Richie can only stand in the middle of the room with a look of dismay on his face. He’s such a dumb shit that it’s not until I make it back downstairs all the way from his attic room that I hear him screaming. Mom looks up at me from her book where she sits reading on the couch. She sighs. 

 

“What have you done to your brother now?” she asks, though she’s not really interested. I want to demand why she just assumes it’s me that’s done something because I’m the nice brother, but I don’t. Instead I shrug. 

 

“Nothing. I don’t know what he could possibly be yelling about.” I walk past her and head for the basement door, glancing at the clock on the wall as I go. 

 

“I’m assuming you let the others in already?” I call over my shoulder. It’s a game night, and we always start at six. Tonight it looks like I’m the one that’s late. Mom sighs. 

 

“Will is the only one here for now, but I’ll send the others down when they get here.” 

 

“Thanks, Mom.” I reply easily, out of habit, but then I register what she said, and I gulp. 

My hand pauses on the door knob, but I take a deep breath and swing it open.

**Author's Note:**

> for full disclosure, I don't really ship Byler anything other than platonically this is just for the purpose of the fic. but I can't wait to develop Reddie a little more in later fics. who knows.


End file.
